“If I don’t get any of the plunder, I don’t haul,” objected Chunky stubbornly.
“Pull! If you don’t I’ll throw you overboard,” threatened Hippy savagely.
“I’ll drop it if you do. I’ll—”
A bullet snipped the water not a dozen yards from the dugout, followed by the report of a rifle.
“You’re under fire! Look out!” shouted the voice of Grace Harlowe, shrill and piercing.
“Let ’em shoot!” retorted Hippy. “Tom, are you game to go through with it?”
“Yes.”
“Bang, bang, bang!” Three bullets hit the water close at hand, sending up little spurts of white spray. Another bullet went through the top of Stacy Brown’s hat.
“Wow!” howled Chunky. “You can get shot if you want to, but I don’t.”
“Buck up!” urged Lieutenant Wingate. “We’ll have the thing aboard in a moment.”